by Radclyffe
“True.” Tory examined the wound through a dinner plate–sized magnifying glass that she swung over the table. “When do you expect the FBI?”
“Unfortunately, in about fifteen minutes. I won’t be able to put off briefing them, but I’ll try to keep them out of your hair as long as I can.”
Tory smiled over at her. “Thank you. I’m not feeling particularly diplomatic at the moment.”
“We had another incident just before I came over here.” At Tory’s look of alarm, Reese hastened to add, “Everything’s okay now. But someone tried to break into Bri and Caroline’s place. Caroline heard him working on the door and called us. He was gone by the time we got there.”
Tory straightened. “Oh, damn. Is she all right?”
“She seemed to be. A little scared, the way you’d expect. But she kept her head. Bri and I took her over to Rica’s.”
“Darling, what’s going on? Our house, Rica’s car, now Caroline? Can these really all be coincidences?”
“I’ll admit, I don’t like it. But I don’t have anything at the moment that ties them all together.” Reese frowned, frustrated that she couldn’t get a handle on what was happening. She hated feeling that she was missing some critical piece of the puzzle, and if she could just find it, everything would make sense. What worried her was that she wouldn’t find it in time and someone she cared about would pay the price. She clenched her fists. Impotence was not a feeling she was familiar with.
“Talk it out, darling,” Tory said gently.
“I wish I could. It makes sense Everly would go after Caroline—classic stalker behavior. I can even see him going after Bri first, not only to get her out of the way, but to make Caroline suffer. He has reason to be angry at me too, which would explain him breaking into our house. That would tie two of the three together.”
“And Rica’s car would just be coincidence?”
“That could easily be simple vandalism. Or Everly again, targeting Caroline’s friends.”
“But you don’t like it.”
“Not with this too,” Reese said, indicating the body on the table.
Tory handed Reese a pair of gloves. “Help me turn him.”
Reese pulled on the gloves and, together, they slid the body to the edge of the table with Reese supporting most of the weight, then tilted him up on his side and finally over onto his abdomen. Tory resumed her microscopic examination, starting with his hair. She sifted through it with a wide-toothed stainless steel comb, then visually examined his scalp for tears, blunt injury, or lacerations.
“Nothing here,” Tory murmured. “And if it’s not Everly?”
“Then we have a much bigger problem,” Reese said grimly.
*
When Reese arrived back at the station, Carter was waiting for her. She motioned Carter into the office and closed the door.
“Sit down. Long night and it’s not over yet.” Reese settled behind her desk and Carter sprawled in a chair in front of it. “Where are we?”
“In a nutshell?” Carter said. “Nowhere. No wits to speak of, no suspects. Anything from the post?”
“Not much more than we already knew. The guy’s a pro.” Reese sighed and leaned back in her chair. “The one thing we have going for us is that nothing goes unnoticed in a place like this for very long. We’ll ask around—check with shopkeepers and bartenders. See if we can put together a victim profile, since we don’t know anything about the suspect. If we know where the FBI agent was right before he was killed, we might have some idea what he was doing or who he might’ve gotten tangled up with.”
“A lot of legwork and a lot of luck.”
“That’s about it,” Reese agreed.
“Rica called me about what happened with Caroline. Any ideas about that?”
“If I was betting the odds, I’d have Everly at the top of my list.”
Carter nodded. “Mine too. But it doesn’t set completely right with me.”
“No,” Reese said. “Me neither. Unless he’s changed, he likes to ambush girls outdoors away from people. He’s a coward. Breaking into someone’s apartment, running the risk of their being able to get a call out—doesn’t feel like him.”
“Anything I can do to help there, let me know.”
“With Tremont out on sick leave today, I may need you to run some known associates down later.”
“No problem.” Carter leaned forward, her shoulders tense. “What about the feds?”
Reese looked at her watch. “I expect they’ll be here any—”
Someone knocked sharply on the door to her office. When Reese had arrived, the outer room had been empty except for one officer manning the phones and handling dispatch. Everyone else was out in the field. It was still too early for Gladys to arrive. Reese stood up as the knock was repeated with an impatient cadence.
“I’d say the FBI is here.” Reese opened the door and nodded to the thin, cool blonde in a severely cut black jacket and tailored pants. In her low heels, she was only an inch shorter than Reese.
“Supervisory Special Agent Marilyn Allen,” the blonde said.
“Reese Conlon, Agent Allen.” Reese held out her hand while behind her, the chair scraped back as Carter bolted to her feet. Reese stepped aside and watched Marilyn Allen’s face register first surprise, then a sharp predatory gleam. “And I believe you already know Officer Wayne.”
“I didn’t realize you’d returned to law enforcement, Carter,” Marilyn said as she walked in.
“I guess your sources aren’t as good as you thought,” Carter said.
The FBI agent laughed lightly. “Oh, they’re quite good. Perhaps when I’m done with the sheriff, you and I can catch up.”
Carter glanced at Reese, who said, “Carter is the lead in the investigation into your agent’s death. She’ll be staying during the briefing.”
“I hardly see where that’s necessary,” Marilyn said smoothly, taking the chair next to the one Carter had abandoned. She sat down and crossed her legs with cool precision. “Since there won’t be any local investigation.”
“We don’t want to waste any of your time,” Reese said, “and I’m sure you don’t want to waste ours. So let’s cut through all the posturing and get right to it. We are not going to cede this investigation to you. We’ll work with you because we all want this killer found. But we’re not going to sit back while you run your own investigation in our town.”
“A federal agent was murdered,” Marilyn said.
“Yes, and I’d very much like to know what he was doing here,” Reese said. “What was he working on?”
“I’m afraid that’s highly confidential.”
“That’s not what I would call cooperation.”
“Very well,” Marilyn said, pursing her lips as if carefully considering her next words. As if she hadn’t already decided exactly how much she would give them before she’d set foot on the landing strip at Race Point. “Agent Lloyd is part of a much larger ongoing operation and he was here doing routine surveillance.”
“Alone?” Reese asked, knowing that federal agents rarely undertook solo assignments.
“He was checking out a lead from an intelligence source we did not believe to be particularly credible. He was supposed to be in and out in a few hours.” Marilyn smiled at Reese. “Otherwise, of course I would have notified you.”
“Of course,” Reese said. “Who was he following?”
“No one to concern you.” Marilyn shrugged. “A midlevel drug dealer who we were hoping would lead us to his connection, someone much higher up.”
Reese didn’t have any reason to believe or disbelieve her, but her instincts told her that the federal agent was blowing smoke. At the moment, however, challenging her would lead nowhere. “We have to assume that this suspect of yours recognized Lloyd and killed him. I’ll need a name and description.”
“I’ll see that the information is faxed to you.”
“This morning. You and your team can work out of here.”
“As soon as possible, Sheriff.” Marilyn rose and smoothed down her jacket. It bulged almost imperceptibly over her left hip where her weapon was holstered. “I’ve booked several rooms at the Driftwood Inn. We wouldn’t want to trouble you any more than necessary.”
“When we get your information, I’ll send you the crime scene photos and reports. Do you want to go to the scene?”
Marilyn cast Carter a speculative look. “I’m sure Officer Carter was thorough. If I have any questions after reading her report, I’ll let you know.”
“Fine.” Reese watched her walk out, then looked at Carter. “How much of her promise to provide information did you believe?”
“Try none. First of all, Marilyn Allen is the head of the regional anti-organized crime unit working out of Boston, at least she was the last time I heard. She’s probably got dozens of agents keeping tabs on midlevel dealers and above. She’s not likely to send one agent anywhere to check out one possible sighting.”
“Sounds thin to me too,” Reese mused. “For now the best we can do is watch them. Sooner or later, they’ll tip their hand.”
“Let’s hope it’s before someone else gets killed.”
*
Ash woke up aching, inside and out. She took a long hot shower—her mind a careful blank—dried off, and dressed in jeans and a collarless pale blue shirt. She walked four blocks to a coffee shop and ordered coffee and chocolate croissants. While she waited, she asked if she could see a phonebook. The barista, who looked barely awake, shot her an annoyed glance and then dug around under the counter and came up with a dog-eared local phonebook a half inch thick. Ash thumbed through it quickly, then pushed it back across the counter. She took out a twenty, paid, and left the change as a tip.
“Hey, thanks,” the punked-out young woman behind the counter said in surprise.
“You’re welcome,” Ash said and left.
The early morning sky was hazy bright, the sun hidden behind clouds. Commercial Street was almost empty except for delivery vans and dog walkers. Ash strode quickly, knowing what she was doing was crazy. She was crazy. She’d been crazy for months and pretending otherwise. She couldn’t keep it up anymore. She just couldn’t. Maybe she would have been able to keep going, working around the clock, losing herself in strange bedrooms with strange women or at the bottom of a shot glass, if she hadn’t come here. But she was too close now, too close to escape. So she didn’t slow down long enough to think.
Turning up one of the many narrow side streets, she found the address and checked the mailboxes until she located the one she was looking for. She didn’t pause, but opened the wooden gate and followed the flagstone path through a small patio to the only door. She knocked and waited, nothing rehearsed, nothing planned. Only knowing she had no choice.
After a minute or two, the door opened and Allie stood in the doorway, wearing a loose ribbed tank that came just to the top of her thighs. A white bandage covered the outside of one leg. Her skin was damp and flushed, and the tendrils of dark hair at her temples moist, as if she’d just splashed water on her face.
“How did you find me?” Allie asked.
“Phonebook.” Ash held up the cardboard tray holding the cups and take-out bag. “Coffee and croissants.”
Allie hesitated. She’d been so amped after leaving Ash the night before, she’d had a hard time getting to sleep. She’d tossed and turned for a long time, angry and agitated because she’d wanted to stay with her. She’d wanted her. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb dumb dumb. She ought to close the door.
“Chocolate croissants?” she asked instead.
Ash nodded, holding her breath, wanting to beg, knowing she didn’t have the right.
Allie moved aside to let Ash enter. “Come on in the living room.”
“Thanks.” Ash sat next to Allie on the sofa and handed her the café au lait she’d ordered for her. Then she took out the croissants and put them on napkins on the coffee table. Allie’s naked thigh was an inch from hers. Her skin was smooth and still tanned from the summer. A dark purple bruise extended from beneath the white bandage. “How’s your leg?”
Allie sipped her cafe au lait and murmured with pleasure. Just the way she liked it. Ash had gotten her favorite croissants and remembered exactly how she took her coffee. Stupid to care about something like that, but she did. “Not too bad. Achy, but not enough to set me behind a desk.” She sighed. “I think Reese is going to, though. I guess I don’t blame her, since I fucked up yesterday.”
Ash set down her coffee. “We’ve been through this. You didn’t fuck up. These things happen. Reese knows that. Quit beating yourself up.”
“Yeah. Okay,” Allie said quietly. It helped, talking with Ash. Knowing that Ash wouldn’t say something just to make her feel better. Ash was like Bri that way, always supportive but also always totally honest—at least about stuff like this. If she’d fucked up yesterday, Ash would’ve told her, if only so she would be safe the next time. She trusted Ash that way. She’d trusted her about everything once. Remembering that, the pain came flooding back. Turning, she stared at Ash. “What are you doing here?”
“I need you to know something,” Ash said, her throat feeling dry and tight. The hurt was so clear in Allie’s eyes. “You said something yesterday. Something that wasn’t true.”
“What?” Allie whispered.
Ash knew she shouldn’t touch her, but she couldn’t help it. She traced her fingers over Allie’s cheek. Her hand shook and she steadied it by cupping Allie’s jaw, her thumb gently tracing the corner of Allie’s mouth. “You said I only cared about your body. That’s not true. It was never true.” She grinned wryly. “I do think you’re beautiful. I love your body. I can’t stop thinking about it. But that’s not why I… You’re so much more, Allie. So much more. You’re tender and warm and brave and daring. You’re like a beacon in the dark, baby—I’m sorry, I know I’m not supposed to call you that…I just…Just being near you always made me feel so alive.”
“Jesus,” Allie whispered. She could barely absorb what Ash was saying. Ash’s hand was so hot, almost as hot as Ash’s eyes, roving over her face as if Ash wanted to devour her. Her stomach tightened. Her breasts flushed and her sex gave a warning pulse. “Ash, what are you doing?”
“I know it’s too late, but I needed you to know.” Ash groaned and slowly, with infinite tenderness, raised her other hand and cradled Allie’s face. She brushed her mouth over Allie’s, then rested her forehead against Allie’s and closed her eyes.
“You know what your problem is,” Allie murmured against Ash’s mouth as she stroked the back of her neck.
Eyes still closed, Ash shook her head, insanely on fire just from the sensation of Allie’s fingers on her neck.
“You always think you know what I feel.” Allie reached up for Ash’s hand and drew it down to her breast. Instantly her nipple tightened against Ash’s palm and she shuddered. “And you’re always wrong.”
Chapter Nineteen
At a little before eight, Carter finished typing in the last line of her report on the findings at the murder scene. Aware of Bri standing quietly just behind her chair, she pushed Save, then Print, and swung around in her chair. “What’s up?”
Bri rocked back on her heels, her hands bunched in her pockets. “Reese told me to make sure you didn’t need anything.”
“We’re good here. Why don’t you head on out.” Carter cocked her head when Bri didn’t move. For such an honest kid, Bri wasn’t all that easy to read, and something was clearly bothering her now. Playing back recent events in her mind, Carter thought it might have been how she’d handled things when she and Bri had responded to the DB call. She’d automatically kicked into investigative mode as soon as she saw the body, and had pretty much taken over. Then Reese had shown up and made her the lead in the murder investigation. She’d been too busy getting a jump on the early facts of the case to consider how all that might appear, but Bri was probably feeling pushed aside by someone who hadn’t earned
her stripes yet. Justifiably so, too. “Problem?”
“No. Are you leaving now?”
“I thought I’d stick with things for a while,” Carter said carefully. “Find out where Agent Lloyd was staying in town. Maybe get a lead on where he was last night. You can bet the feds won’t tell us.”
“You’re going to go door-to-door?”
Carter lifted her shoulder. “This is a small town. Someone will have seen this guy.”
“What’s she like, the agent in charge?” Bri asked.
“Not someone you want to cross.” Carter had spent a couple of days behind bars because Supervisory Special Agent Marilyn Allen had thought she could browbeat Carter into turning state’s evidence against Rica and her father. Come to think of it, she hadn’t heard anything through her considerable sources that the agent was still actively pursuing Alfonse Pareto, but she couldn’t believe Marilyn Allen would give up. Which made her all the more dangerous. Of course, Bri didn’t know any of that history. “Sometimes agents like her have an agenda that supersedes solving an individual case, if it doesn’t suit their long-term purpose. That’s why Reese is right in insisting that we keep control of this case. Our only agenda is to solve this murder.”
“So can I stick with you this morning?” Bri hurried on before Carter could respond. “I want to check and make sure Caroline’s okay, but you know…the first day in a murder investigation is critical, right? So I figured I should work it with you. I’ve never had the chance before.”
“You okay with me taking lead?”
Bri’s eyebrows rose, then she grinned. “First of all, Reese wants it that way, so it’s fine by me. Secondly, next to Reese and my dad, you’re the most senior person here. I want to learn. And I want to solve the case.”
